


And that Lighthouse Keeper was very sad

by moongorgeous



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Gen, Just picture what the lighthouse looked at the beginning, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moongorgeous/pseuds/moongorgeous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time there was a lighthouse keeper, and he was very sad… then the Luteces found him. (Not really graphic violence at all, but mentions of it?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And that Lighthouse Keeper was very sad

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by two things, this fanart (http://bottleshark.tumblr.com/post/47304459259) and something very interesting Ken Levine said on his twitter (https://twitter.com/IGLevine/status/317808991700922368)… which was obviously a joke but also kind makes sense too. It gives a tiny more consistency with how the Luteces can actually interact with the world (ie. they cannot actually kill anyone, only give choices) so what if the Lighthouse Attendant had killed himself and they just took advantage of it?

_The words of The Prophet framed perfectly upon the walls no longer brought him hope. The far and in-between messages from Comstock did nothing to bring him solace. It never stopped raining, the sun never shined with warmth and he felt disgusted by his own weakness even when handed such an important mission by The Prophet himself. Yet no matter how many time he reread the short plan note: "Be Prepared. He's on his way. You must stop him," he couldn't find the reassurance that The False Shepard would really come upon him here at this Lighthouse. Why couldn't he be a stronger man? Why not a man whom found hope in the future of setting foot on the holy ground of Columbia? Breathing in the same air as the Prophet himself, basking in the gold rays of sunshine which the Prophet brought to them all..._

Robert Lutece let out a long sigh as he finished reading the messy cursive in the diary he'd found discarded on the bed. At least this gave some insight on their current situation, and why their last failed Booker ended up with a bullet in his head to match the Lighthouse Keeper's now. Discarding the book, he turned to his sister who seemed preoccupied with turning the dial to the radio. "Rosalind."

"Hm?" She still didn't turn to look at him, finding a song which seemed to finally fit her taste. "Yes, now that is much more agreeable."

" _Rosalind._ "

"What is it now?" She sighed, crossing her arms to finally give him undivided attention.

"He's dead." His hand waved at the body on the floor. "He _killed_ himself."

"I think that is a fairly obvious observation, brother." She held back rolling her eyes, he always took the matters of other people far too seriously. "I think the hole in his head is testament to that."

Robert shook his head, glancing around the room with only the radio to drown out the white noise of the rain outside. "I suppose, we should use this situation to our advantage, don't you think?"

"I suppose we should, seeing how the last one so acutely failed to even step foot off the ground." Rosalind looked down at the body for a moment, mind reeling with what new variables they should try to create. "We should take him to-"

"The third floor?"

"Yes. It's best not to scare him too soon... you take the body up there. I'll take care of this area first."

"Me?" Robert made a slight frown as he keeled down next to the body, already picking it up by the shoulders.

"Yes, you." She told him sharpy, already knocking over the kitchen table as her twin made quick work of setting up the scene above.

"I must say, I'm curious to see how this pans out this time." Robert yelled down to her as he placed the body into a chair, Rosalind making some noise in reply to him. "Do you suppose this shall keep him motivated?"

"I can't see why not." She appeared next to him suddenly, a bag and a note in her hands.

"Don't Disappoint Us?" Robert read with slight amusement as his twin shoved the potato sack over the Keeper's head.

"I pinned another on the door outside. The more variables in our favor, the better. I suppose."

"Indeed." 

"I think we need more blood though." Rosalind crossed her arm as she looked over the scene.

"More? Do you wish for this to look like a psychopathic killing?"

"Do you want it to have no effect at all on him? Stab him a few more times."

"You're insufferable." Robert found the box of tools on a table, stabbing the poor soul's body until a large puddle appeared on the floor below. Blood splattering cross his breast of his jacket, a few more flicking across his cheeks as if to match the freckles already there.

Rosalind nodded ordering him to put a few more traces of blood along the staircase before they both seemed satisfied with the scene they'd created. "This should cause an interesting reaction at the very least."

"If he doesn't go running and screaming." Robert pulled off his stained jacket, wiping off his face with a handkerchief Rosalind handed him.

"If that happens, he won't be much of a hero for us will he? This _was_ your idea in the first place."

"It will work out. We just have to try until we get it right."

"Of course."


End file.
